


Mercy without a heart

by sudoarrin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Team Fluff, also she needs some medical help, but first PAIN, eventual, give your local mercy a hug she needs it, injuries, lots of blood/injuries/surgery, or a girlfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7034140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudoarrin/pseuds/sudoarrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heroes never die, as long as Mercy is there to save them. To make sure she is always there, Mercy has pushed beyond the medical horizon, walking a knife's edge. </p><p>One day, Mercy slips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Broken Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I have little Overwatch knowledge about Mercy so some of it may be canonically wrong. (if so, PLEASE correct me!)

_Heroes never die._

The heroes, some of the former Overwatch, some from the shadows, were incredible. Despite being broken, hurt, and used by people many times over, they had still chosen to fight for humanity. And in return, humanity regarded them with awe. To many people, the heroes were symbols of hope for a peaceful future.

_And mercy must not let hope die._

That was why Mercy had spent many nights in the medical wing. That was why she had crossed boundaries with procedures that, if had not been done on herself, would be called medical crimes. That was why she had shards of her cracked Valkyrie suit interlaced with the flesh of her chest, as she had charged, heedless of the danger, in order to resurrect her team. Getting the shards out would usually call for an assisting medical professional, but no medical professional could look at her damaged body and fail to see...

Someone was coming down the corridor ahead, and mercy crossed her arms over her chest and went from a limp to a stride, as a young doctor hurried past, going to receive the rest of the heroes entering the hangar doors. Reaching her lab, Mercy stepped inside, then slumped against the examination table. Noticing droplets of blood stretching back to the door, Mercy cursed in German. Her heart should have prevented that. Was it broken? It had never broken, never faltered. What had happened? Also, why not leave a note saying "I am injured, and if you care about me, why not come and check up on me?"

No. Time was of the essence. Blood loss, not normally a problem for her, would be a disaster, pulling her into a lethargic state until she either died or was found by someone checking up on her. If she died, well...then she was dead, and who else could continue her research? And if found, slumped over in a pool of blood (and the metal inside of it), that too would be a disaster.

If Mercy died, the heroes would have permanent deaths. They would no longer rise and fight again. Anyone could operate her staff, but..

After doing some X-rays to locate any deep shards, Mercy limped around the room, collecting medical tools and some powerful drugs. Powerful localized numbing agents, they could keep her hands feeling but her injuries numb. Pain from her other injuries flared as she took off as much as the suit as she could. Then, after hooking herself up to an IV, Mercy lay on the surgical table and began to remove the shards.

 

*****

On one side of the table lay many shards, once white, now red. On the table lay Mercy, her chest area visibly torn and ragged now that the shards had been removed. Now she could rest, and let the nanobots do the work.

Nanobots were not meant to be in a person permanently. They were, despite what care you took in crafting them, foreign objects in the body, which would create minuscule slices in veins, muscle, bone, everything really. They could damage cells, and upset chemical balances. But, so that she would not be slowed down in battle, Mercy had created an army of tiny bots that permanently swam in her bloodstream, fed off her nutrients, (meaning she had to eat often or be tired all the time) and healed her constantly.

They were still weak though, and so Mercy had added more machines throughout her body. mechanized valves, more reliable than flesh and blood, ways to alter her chemical balance at will, and her crowning achievement, a fully mechanical heart and lungs. Smaller than the originals, and armored, with sensors that would stop her from bleeding out, they were beautiful. The only thing she had sacrificed was a heartbeat.

Ah, yes. What was wrong with her heart? It should have told the valves in her chest area to close, preventing blood flow to the missing area, and her from bleeding out. Perhaps if she had not lost as much blood, the idea of doing another major surgery while injured would have sent up a red flag. But as it was, Mercy cut deep into her chest with the ease of practice.

What she found was terrifying

Her beautiful heart, made to protect her, was dented, pulled to one side, the tubes and wires running from it pulled out of place. Already a thin stream of blood pooled below it.

It was too damaged, and even if it wasn't, she did not have the tools in the lab to fix it. Medicine does not fix a metal heart.

Mercy would have to replace it.

 

 

 

 


	2. Fear during a medical procedure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you thought Mercy would get a break, you thought wrong.

Mercy felt, at least in the areas where she wasn't numb, fear. It wasn't unusual for her to be afraid during a medical procedure. On the battlefields, she decided who lived or died, who got hurt, and who stayed safe. It was sometimes a rush of godlike power, but the price was fear. Fear that she would make the wrong choice, that something would go horribly wrong and she would lose someone forever. She made sure she worked her hardest to save each life, never relying or counting on her ability to resurrect them. And in the operating room, she felt fear for her patient. Her patient, who was not just a patient but a friend, a brother, a mother, a lover, could not die, would not die, because Mercy had seen enough of people breaking when those they loved died. Had been the person breaking when those she loved died.

But Mercy had never felt fear for herself. She had believed in her nanobots, her mechanical organs, and her skills-but mostly her mechanical organs. Even if her nanobots failed, even if she made a mistake, her heart and lungs would keep on going. Or so she had thought. Now, she lay, her chest cut open, with a damaged heart, which threatened her with death if one loose wire, one damaged tube, slipped out of place. Laying still was not an option. she would bleed out and die, rather quickly if the puddle of blood on the floor was anything to go by. But if she got up to get the replacement-would she survive? Would the heart fall out entirely? It had survived so far-it might survive one last trip. But first, she had to heal her chest.

Adding more nanobots to her body was not a thing she did lightly. Too many, and instead of blood, you have a lot of tiny metal pieces that shred you from the inside out. But, in the event of a grievous injury, say, where your chest has been cut open, and you can't stop yourself from bleeding out, you need a lot of bots to heal. Since bots were always being passed out of her body when they died, once a week, Mercy would attach a bag-full-o-bots to the IV, and read a book. And for emergencies, she kept all the IV bags, along with all other useful equipment, under the table.

Groping around with her right arm, she found a botbag. After tugging on the IV tube to bring the stand closer to her, Mercy's attempt to sit up ended in a failure, as her torso was thankfully still numb. So, pulling herself up the pole, she clumsily attached the botbag to the feed, the fell back down with a thud onto the table, exhausted. The table was covered with blood, and Mercy fell into a weary unconsciousness.

*******

When Mercy woke up, she was in hungry, thirsty, and in pain, proving that the numbing agent had worn off. Down her chest ran a bleeding gash that went down to the bone, looking as if someone had taken a ragged scoop out of her flesh. On the surface was what looked like black mold, but was actually the nanobots, industriously working away. With each breath, the gash throbbed in pain. She was also terribly hungry from the nanobots using her body's nutrients and thirsty from the blood loss. Mercy felt horrible, and probably looked it. But she needed to get a new heart before the old one fully broke. and that meant leaving the lab and heading to medical storage about 50 feet down the hall. She could make it without being found, she hoped.

 

Any movement jarred her torso, so Mercy kept up a constant muttering of German expletives as she half-fell off the surgical table. It was easier to swear than give in to the fear that this was her last moment, her heart would stop any second now... After kneeling and steeling herself, Mercy, using the table for support, rose to her feet, and took a step. It hurt. Her joints and muscles burnt, meaning she would have to kill the bots soon, or be shredded. Fresh blood dripped from her chest on the dried blood dripped earlier. Mercy felt fogged, and because she knew she wasn't thinking clearly, slightly panicked, although that too was muted by the blanket that weighed her mind down from thinking clearly.

Walking, bleeding, and swearing, Mercy made her way to the doors. Her attempt to push them open turned into a lean on the doors, and they swung open, Mercy tumbling out into the hallway and falling, too weak and tired to get up.

"What the-Mercy! Mercy!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh...  
> sorry about how short this is!  
> hey, thanks to you guys who commented-looking at you orenjikitty and Neik-you guys are the reason I'm up this late writing this. Honestly, I want to be chill about it but everyone that commented is awesome and I love you.
> 
> also I'm coining the term botbag even though its pretty useless.


	3. Chapter 3

Mercy woke, and found the world an unknown, swirling, bright blur that shot a spike into her skull. Her entire body ached, a dull, dull flame burning under her skin as the nanobots tore her cells. Attempting to rise from her prone position resulted in a hand pressed steadily down on her shoulder until Mercy let herself go limp once more.  
  
"Do not move. You will hurt yourself more," commanded Pharah, or from Mercy's view, the tall blue blob above her.  
  
"Is she awake?"  
  
"Luv, take care of yourself."  
  
Mercy, what did you do?"  
  
"Mercy, you had us all so worried!" From all around her came the voices of her team.  
  
"All of you, be useful, or be quiet," Soldier 76 said, and the crowd quieted.  
  
"Mercy," Winston's voice came from her side, "All the doctors could figure out is that you are dehydrated, lacking a little less than two liters of blood, and are exhausted. When we came back from Kings Row, you were fine. What has happened to you?"  
  
Mercy struggled for an answer. When she began tinkering with her body, she knew her companions would never support or agree with it. They would say what she did was too dangerous, and they were right. Living on the edge like this was so wrong, so dangerous, and it was a miracle she had made it this far. But what she knew was outweighed by the fact that it worked. In battle, she, the fragile, pacifist, doctor would survive the bullets and explosions so that her patients could as well. Her whole life bent towards healing, Mercy was willing to endanger herself for others. Others like Pharah, the protective soldier who also understood the cost of violence, and Winston, often regarded as a freak, but still fighting for humanity. Winston was peering at her though his glasses, waiting for her response. What had happened was as good as them finding out, for Mercy's conscience would not let her actively trick and lie to her friends.  
  
"I-" her throat burnt. Pharah whirled away, then returned with a cup of water. Seeing Mercy's trembling hand, Pharah lifted it to Mercy's mouth. The water didn't help the pain much, only soothing it momentarily until it was back in force.  
  
"I will tell you all later. Right now-" the nanobots were killing her, tearing her muscle and flesh, making every word into a burning ember as she coughed it up. "I need the blue canister in my storage room."  
  
"I'll be back in a blink luv, don't go anywhere," chirped Tracer from the corner of the lab. "I'm Back!" She shook the canister. "What's the password on this thing? It's like something from a spy movie."  
  
"Vogel."  
  
As Tracer worked on opening the canister, Mercy worked on solving her other problem.  
  
"Winston.." Her voice was soft, but Winston heard her from where he was studying the bloody shards of her Valkyrie suit.  
  
"Yes?" he asked, matching her low volume.  
  
"I have a lot of nanobots in me. Could we create a type of dialysis machine to filter them out?" No sense hiding her injuries like some of her patients did. It didn't help anything, and when Mercy inevitably found out, they would be subjected to both her care and anger.  
"Mercy." Winston's gravely voice was that of a disappointed parent, "When this is over, we _a_ _re_ all having a very long talk." He directed his next words at the person next to Tracer, both of who were gravely studying the now open canister. "Symmetra, we need your help." Symmetra walked over, and Tracer followed, now gingerly carrying the container.  
  
"Mercy," Symmetra said, her eyes locked with Mercy's. "That is a mechanical heart, is it not?"

Mercy nodded. Symettra would understand, maybe the best out of all of them, that horrible things are sometimes necessary to do good.

"A mechanical heart?" Winston, confused, looked into the canister that Tracer held out. When he looked back at Mercy. She met his gaze, hoping he would understand, but only found shock and worry on his face. After a second or two, he looked away and spoke.

"Mercy needs a way to filter nanobots from her bloodstream. Could you build something?"

"I will need to look at the nanobot schematics, but I should be able to. When do you need it by?" Winston was about to answer when Mercy spoke.

"I need it the second you finish. Please." It was the way her voice had started out so strong and confident that made the break on the please so terrible to hear. Pharah once again put her hand on Mercy's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, a small but definite comfort to the doctor.

"I will begin work right away." Symmetra walked off, straight backed and stony faced, mind bent towards this new problem to be solved. Tracer approached with the heart, cradling it in her arms.

"So, you just've kept a replacement 'case your actual one needs a day off, have you?"

"No,"Mercy said slowly, dreading the reaction of her team to what she was going to say next. "That one is a replica of the broken one inside me." At that, Pharah's grip tightened, and the murmur of the all her teammates stopped.

_oh god._

After a few moments of dead quiet, Soldier76 took command of the shocked heroes.

"Winston, I will go call the doctors back here, and they will work with you to do what needs to be done. The rest of you, out." As the heroes filed silently out, Mercy was unable to meet their stares, the guilt at putting them in such a worried state causing almost as much pain as she was already in.

"Pharah, you should come too." Soldier76 called from the doorway. With an apologetic glance and a murmured

"I'm sorry," Pharah left, leaving Mercy alone.

 

*********

 

The doctors, many of whom Mercy had watched come into their own, buzzed over her once again split chest, asking her questions. Where does this tube connect? they asked. Where does this wire lead? Do the lungs need replacing as well? Where should the heart be lying? There were so many tubes, running out of her chest and her arms, like her heart, making her more than just human. Mercy, distracted by the procedure, barely noticed when Symmetra came back in with an unassuming, polished, white machine as large as a humidifier. She was in a fog, and the cheers when it was all done were a muted noise in a distant room to her. During the sewing and bandaging of her chest, Mercy slipped in and out of awareness until finally she fell into sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Dialogue is hard. If you've read this far, thank you so much! I really appreciate you taking the time to look at what I've written. I hope you enjoy it! There will be two more chapters-one to finish the main story, and one with continuations, some different POV's-all still part of the story.  
> Like always, if you have any feedback or critique, I really want to hear it. Even if its a plot hole or grammar mistake.  
> Thank you so much!  
> (Also after this I'm writing prompts so if you have one...)


	4. Trying to find Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for The Talk.

  
  
It was time for the talk. Grave faced, the heroes crammed all but one of the various chairs and couches in the rec room to capacity. The sole empty chair was for Mercy, a tall backed, faded armchair that evoked the feeling of a witness stand.There had been talking when she walked in, but it had stopped when she entered. All eyes watched her walk and sit down. Mercy felt she better establish that this was not a grilling session, but a conversation by starting the whole thing off.  
  
"How do you want me to begin?"  
  
"Explain what you did to yourself," said Winston. He already knew, but he wanted the others to fully understand the situation and it's gravity. Mercy could understand and respect that.  
  
"I kept medical nanobots inside of my body almost permanently. Doing so is dangerous, because the nanobots can shred tissue, as they are not unlike tiny shards of metal. I also used larger numbers of nanobots than the guidelines allow, but to counter this, the nanobots do have shorter lifespans, and will cycle out of my body quicker." As she spoke, Mercy looked at each of the heroes, judging their reaction. Soldier 76 and Pharah were typically stoic. Lucio kept up a serious, steady stare at Mercy's face, while D.va looked at her own feet. Mei looked extremely concerned, while Symmettra only partially succeeded at hiding hers behind a serious mask. Mcree's eyes bored into her from under his hat. Zenyatta sat still and silent as always, Genji mirroring him. Hanzo sat still as well, his statue impression only broken by his breathing and blinking. Tracer, crosslegged on the floor, fidgeted with her hands, but her face was as serious as Mercy had ever seen it  
  
"Furthermore, I replaced my own heart and lungs with smaller, tougher, mechanical versions. This means a smaller target in fights, and a greater ability to survive. There is also a small computer in there that manages all my blood valves, and can seal off parts of my body if i get shot, so that I don't die from blood loss." Mercy happened to be looking at Pharah as she finished, and saw Pharah's face go blank, staring off into the distance. Then, guilt appeared in just a flash before Pharah's face became a stoic mask again.  
  
Why would Pharah feel guilty? Why would she, who was always by Mercy's side, protecting her from the enemy, feel guilty?  
  
It hit her like a brick, a weight that drove her into the ground, and crushed her into nothing. _She thinks that I did all that because she was not good enough._

_Oh god._

_No._

Pharah had always pulled her both ways with the issue. On the one side, there was the Pharah who had made it into Overwatch because of her hard work, because she had improved without the use of risky medical procedures. Pharah, who would not want Mercy to put herself in danger. The Pharah that protected her. But there was the other Pharah. The one Mercy saw covered in injuries, close to death, because she had protected weak little Mercy. The Pharah who was so tired of war and fighting but did it anyway, because it was _her duty_. The Pharah that _Mercy_ had to protect.

And the team that Mercy had to protect.  
  
"Mercy?" Tracer called gently from her seat on the floor. "Why are you crying?"  
  
"I'm..?" She reached up to feel her face. "I'm crying." Mercy stifled her tears and glanced at Pharah. Pharah looked away.  
  
"I..I just.." It couldn't be just Pharah. More of them must feel the same, feel that their own failings had caused Mercy to put herself in such danger and undergo such pain. Nothing was further from the truth. She had to say something, banish that guilt from their minds!  
  
"It is because of my own failings that I did all this. I know that I have taken extreme risks. But I must be able to do my duty, and sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the bigger picture."  
  
Winston reached over and placed a hand on her arm. "Mercy, you are not to be one of those sacrifices. Whatever reasons you had for what you have done, you know at the least you are far more useful alive."  
  
Mercy would not and could not argue against that. So she looked down, avoiding all that she could. After a moment, Winston moved his hand. Silence draped over them all, as the two parties, Mercy and everyone, waited for the other to speak. Finally, someone broke the silence, surprising Mercy into looking up.  
  
"Why didn't you tell us?" Pharah asked, fury in her voice and eyes, the rightous anger she used in battle now channeled at Mercy. It was a terrifying force.

Part of her wanted to relent, to say sorry, to promise that she had done wrong. But she remembered the times when she had been shot, and still able to get to her teammates side in time. How many of them wouldn't be alive if she hadn't done it all? Of course, it was wrong. But it was also right, and that was the problem. Mercy wished her team understood the duality of the problem as well.

"Because you would have forbidden and stopped me." Mercy hated this logic that she slipped into in situations like this, beating down and hurting the people she cared for from behind a mask of reason and intelligence.

"If you knew we would stop you, why did you choose to do it behind our backs?" Pharah's anger was tearing Mercy up on the inside, but her voice continued to be steady, talking in an almost patronizing tone.

"Because it was necessary for me to be able to protect you all so that you could do your absolute best."

Mercy wasn't sure how the fragile divide between her mask of logic and her actual self as a crying, blubbering mess was still holding, but she was glad it was.

"I don't care about efficiency Mercy," Pharah said in a slow voice, imprinting each word on Mercy's brain. "I care about you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, actually, there is going to be two more chapters! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Because of my bad habit of editing stuff after it is posted, this may changed a bit in the next few days. (Nothing major though)

**Author's Note:**

> This probably all comes from the fact that I play support in all the games I play and it's very rare someone actually protects me so I can protect them.  
> I'm not bitter at all, really.
> 
> Please give feedback, I'm a baby writer and I need all the help I can get.


End file.
